


Elementary, My Dear

by BritishShinshi



Series: The UsUk Collection [18]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Sherlock Holmes AU, Sherlock!Arthur, USUK - Freeform, Watson!Alfred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23427562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BritishShinshi/pseuds/BritishShinshi
Summary: Consulting Detective Arthur Kirkland faces his most difficult case yet: unravelling Alfred F Jone’s love interest.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Series: The UsUk Collection [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1438048
Comments: 11
Kudos: 111





	Elementary, My Dear

The sound of the apartment door opening didn’t interrupt Arthur as he stared attentively at the bouquet of roses in front of him. The flowers were in perfect bloom, and the color was in a deep shade of scarlet. Roses like these were carefully nurtured judging by how healthy and solid their petals are, in addition, the vase that came with it reminded Arthur of a small, yet prestigious flower shop on the other side of town. 

_The English Garden_ , his memory says. Wrapped around the marbled pink, porcelain vase was a velvet ribbon that carried a note. Nothing sentimental was written; just a name that declared who the sender was.

That person just entered the living room.

“Hey, you,” the newcomer said, his voice heavily American. His footsteps stilled, obviously noticing Arthur and the bouquet. “Why are you up so late?”

“Hey is not a word,” Arthur says behind his clasped hands. He never broke his gaze away from the flowers.   
  
“It is to me.” From his peripheral vision, the man takes off his tie and coat, but rather than sauntering to the kitchen to fix himself his dinner like he usually does, he lingers in the living room. “So…” 

Arthur sees fidgety hands, swaying back and forth before settling in a tight clasp in front of his body. Nervous, the latter was nervous. “What do you think of the flowers?”  
  
“They’re quite nice,” Arthur commented. “I’m sure you know what they mean, Alfred?”

Alfred shrugs. “A gift for valentine’s day?”

“I assumed you’d pick them for their sole purpose. Red roses; a symbol for passion, love, adoration… this whole bouquet screams a confession.” Arthur finally faces the American with a questioning look. “So why didn’t you give it to the intended?”

The other man replies with a puzzled look. But before he could reply verbally, Arthur stood up, interrupting him.

“These flowers have been here since this morning. You’ve already gone for work before I could ask you who these are for. But seeing how Valentine’s is almost over, I assume you’ve cancelled giving it, haven’t you?”

“Cancelled?” Perfectly arched eyebrows furrowed deeply. “Arthur-”

“I don’t know why you’d do such a thing. The bouquet is rather beautiful; it’s gone to waste, poor thing. Why would you buy a £120 bouquet from The English Gardens if you knew you weren’t going to give it before Valentine’s ended?

“How did you know it was from The English Gardens?” Alfred sputtered, blue eyes widening in disbelief. “A-and the price too?!”

Arthur scoffed. “Elementary, my dear Alfred. I’d bother explaining but you should know by now that I can deduce anything just from that floral scent you carried yesterday and a jog from memory lane.” Arthur grinned before asking, “So who’s the lucky girl? A co-worker perhaps?”  
  
Alfred never replied, instead, his face was still contorted in confusion.   
  
“Don’t even try to hide it, it’s not even a secret anymore. In fact, I’ve noticed your odd demeanor from the past months,” Arthur commented, preparing himself for the big explanation. “You’ve been less… annoying. Very different from the first time you started residing with me. You’ve had your head in the clouds; something, or rather, someone must have been keeping your mind busy, hm?”

“Uhm, actually-”

“Who’s the lucky girl?” Arthur asked, and again, before Alfred could reply, the Englishman interjected. “Or wait! Don’t tell me,” he says, a wide, excited grin curling on his lips. “Let me figure it out.”

Incredulous, Alfred says, “Figure it out? Like a case?”

“Exactly! I knew there was a brain in there,” Arthur winked. 

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that,” Alfred replies, unamused and a little offended. “But really? You’re treating my… love interest as if it were a case? Are you… are you that bored?” Alfred looks around the living room, only to find new, fresh bullet holes on the wall. “And what did I tell you about your goddamn gun?! The neighbors already think we’re - _you’re_ crazy, we don’t need them calling the cops on us!” 

“It’s a habit, you should know that,” Arthur simply replies before falling back on the couch. “And yes, I am bored. There hasn’t been a case in months and it’s driving me crazy.”

“Then why don’t you just go and play that little violin of yours? Instead of blasting bullets on our wall!”

“Stupid boy, that could only be so much. You don’t understand. I _need_ to solve something,” Arthur stressed, clenching and unclenching his hands as if he just drank a gallon of coffee. “Can’t you see, Alfred? To me, solving mysteries is equivalent to breathing; I need it. My brain needs activity, action, it _aches_ for it. And if I don’t do anything about it, then I might as well just die.” And then he just kept going on and on.

Alfred rolls his eyes. “Alright, drama queen. I’ll let you figure out who my mysterious crush is. Now I’m guessing you want some clues, yes? The color of their eyes? Hair? Height?” Something about his tone sounded sarcastic.

“You used _their_ ,” Arthur pointed out with curious eyes. “A female _or_ a male. And no, don’t give me any hints. I like a challenge.” 

“Whatever you say,” Alfred said flatly. He looked somehow deflated, upset for some reason, as if he was rejected. “I’m gonna eat. You eat dinner yet?”  
  
“Alfred, please. For the umpteenth time, speak properly. I told you, talking isn’t the same thing as texting.”   
  
“You know what, make your own dinner.”

* * *

For the next two days, Alfred and their neighbors savored the tranquility of their apartment complex. With Arthur too busy solving his ‘current case’, he’d fallen from his habits of shooting down their wall and playing the violin like a madman. Right now, the green-eyed blonde was meditating in the living room. He never acknowledged Alfred’s presence, even if the latter has been sitting next to him from the past ten minutes, eating a bowl of cereal rather loudly.

Knowing Arthur for more than a year, Alfred had already looked passed the Englishman’s weird… routines. God knows why Alfred still decides to reside with him. Heck, the American even follows him during his missions. An odd pair, many of them say.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” Arthur quizzes, however, his eyes remained closed.

“Aren’t you supposed to know who my love interest is by now?” Alfred laughed. Now that Arthur was done meditating, even if he pretended he wasn’t, Alfred took the remote and turned the television on. He turned to a channel that had the Avengers playing. “Usually you’d know something by now. Getting rusty?”

“I do agree that I may have had some dead ends here and there-”

“Come on, Arthur. Really? I thought this would have been really easy for you.”

“Hush,” Arthur chided, eyelids fluttering to reveal his emerald eyes. “This is not a simple case. I’m not unravelling England’s most wanted man, or some criminal mastermind; situations like those leave obvious clues that trace the culprit. Your case is more… sentimental I guess. I need to research more about this.”

Alfred almost coughed out the lucky charms in his mouth. “Research?” He blurted, setting aside his bowl on the coffee tables. “You need to do research on _feelings_ ? What are you, a robot?”   
  
“Perhaps, some of the people in Scotland Yard refer to me as such.” Arthur glances at Alfred. “It’s not the first time, and not the worst either. Some call me a psychopath, a nerd, a loser; can’t these people understand? I am a-”

“High-functioning sociopath, yes, Mr. Kirkland, I know,” Alfred grumbles. “I just find it ridiculous that you need to research about something you should already know by heart.”

“What heart?” A pause. “Haha! I just made a joke, laugh with me, Alfred.”

Alfred didn’t. He wasn’t really fond of Arthur’s dark humor. He admitted it upsets him sometimes. “Yeah, sure.” 

“But anyway, we’ve digressed too far from the topic,” Arthur changes the subject. “I did run into some dead ends, but I did conclude a few things about your infatuation.”

Alfred’s expression turned a little dark. He scowled, “It’s _not_ an infatuation.”

Arthur ignored him. “In fact, so infatuated that after I reflected your odd behavior from the past months, I realized this love interest of yours must have caught your attention for a while, yes? I’d give it maybe… ten months? Eleven?” Arthur studied Alfred’s face scrupulously, finding signs of disbelief. “I’m right, aren’t I? Who am I kidding, of course I am!

“You must have spent a lot of time with your love interest for you to develop this infatuation, so it must be someone from work,” Arthur conjectured. He thought of Alfred’s workplace; the man was a teacher for upcoming Royal Air Force pilots. It could be a colleague of his, but trying to find out who was difficult; Arthur barely knew anyone that Alfred worked with. “Hmm, who could it be…”  
  
“If you want to find out sooner: this person has blonde hair and green eyes-... OW!” Alfred cried as a hand thrashed hardly against the back of his head. The American rubbed the sore spot, hissing it pain before glaring at Arthur. “What the fuck was that for?!”

“I told you no hints, you bloody git!” Arthur barked, pouting in dissent. “Now you’ve ruined the whole point of this mystery!”

Alfred stared at him, and he stared _hard_. He looked incredulous, as if he was expecting something other than Arthur’s pissy fits. “Really? No offense but are you that dumb?”

“Excuse me? Offense my ass - who are you calling dumb? Need I remind you exactly of who carries a brain with extreme high intellect and observational skills? If it weren’t for my brothers I would have been the smartest human on Earth!”

“Okay, Einstein, no need to be a drama queen. And I don’t want to hear anything about your sibling rivalry; I can barely handle you alone; how do you think I’d do with three more of you?”

Arthur laughed, recalling the time when he introduced Alfred to the rest of the Kirklands. “You’d never survive a day listening to all of us bicker. That’s why we can never live under the same roof.”  
  
“‘Cause all of you would argue about who’s the smartest between all four of you.”

“Precisely.” Arthur stared at him hesitantly. “However, who do you think is the most intelligent?”

Alfred smirked. “Alistair.”

“What?!” Arthur yelled, or actually, squealed. His exclamation turned a little too high pitch. “ _That_ bastard? Why would you… how dare you! After everything that I’ve done do you-”

* * *

After Arthur’s bitch fit, the Englishman refused to look at Alfred, crossing his arms while he stuck his stubborn pout in the air. “I would’ve revealed more of my deduction, but you’ve upset me.”

Alfred sighed, shaking his head before rolling his eyes for the umpteenth time. “Alright, alright, I take it back, sugar. Will you forgive me?”   
  
The sarcastic tone in Alfred’s voice only roused even more irritation. “I might as well. I don’t want my hard work to go to waste.”   
  
“Hard work?”

“Other than the first few I’ve mentioned, I’ve also discovered a little secret that you’ve been hiding,” Arthur announced. “I may not know who our mysterious person is yet, but I do know how hard you’ve fallen for this person. You really love this person a lot, do you?”  
  
Alfred didn’t say anything at first. He turned away from Arthur, looking down to hide the smile on his face. “Yeah, I do. You got that one right.”

“You love this person so much it’s convinced you to finally move out and seek a new residence.”  
  
This fact surprised Alfred, because he snapped his attention back to Arthur, eyes bulging out from their sockets. “What?” He looked speechless.

“221B Baker Street, London,” Arthur spat out the address. “It’s owned by Toris Laurinaitis, a middle-aged man, Lithuanian, shoulder-length brown hair and green eyes. The pay is a little higher than what we have right now, but the lodging is far more comfortable than here. You're in luck actually, I happen to know the landlord. I can get him to give you a discount once you move in; he owes me after I… helped him deal with a former Russian colleague of his.”  
  
Alfred ignored the innocent smile on Arthur’s lips after his last sentence. Once Arthur revealed his ‘plans’, Alfred couldn’t help but stand up in shock. “How do you know that? How do you know _all_ of that?” He looked as if he was caught red-handed.

“Alfred, please, don’t give me that surprised look. You look as if we just met.” Arthur referred to the first time they were introduced to each other. The time when Arthur blurted Alfred’s entire past in one breath after giving him just one, quick look over. His reaction was priceless, similar to what he has right now.

“ _How_ do you know about this.”

For the first time in a while, Alfred looked serious. Dead serious. Nothing about his current demeanor said he was fooling around. He looked at Arthur with tense eyes, adamant to know how Arthur discovered this information.

It made the Englishman wary a bit, unaccustomed to this type of behavior from Alfred. Arthur cleared his throat, hesitant, “It was quite easy actually. The phone bill,” Arthur reveals, pulling a long folded receipt from his pocket. “I traced the recipient and it led me to a number for a lodging business. Of course it doesn’t even take a rocket scientist to figure out why you were calling Toris, and since you’ve been calling each other a lot from the past few weeks, I knew my deductions were confirmed. You’re moving out, and if I do the Math right, that would be soon.”

Arthur acknowledged Alfred’s sudden silence. He knew a lot of things were happening in Alfred’s brain, many things. His eyes continued to blink rapidly, his mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Alfred looked like he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t form the right words.

Other than his reaction, Arthur was a little taken back by Alfred’s expression. He looked… sad. Like a kicked puppy. The expression was so foreign on Alfred’s face Arthur wanted to quickly bellow an awful dark joke to get that look off of his face. Gears turned in Arthur’s head, spitting out an answer in just a second.

Sighing, Arthur stood up and sauntered toward Alfred. He placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up, lad. It’s fine. I figured you’d want to move out, seeing how it may be unfitting and unattractive to know that you have to live with someone like me. Might not be a sight for the missus. Or… mister.”  
  
Alfred looked at Arthur again with that same confused expression. He shook his head, “Arthur-” A finger pressed against his lips.

“You don’t need to patronize me,” Arthur says with a stiff smile. Something was prickling inside of him, a foreign feeling but he pushed it aside. “I told you, it’s fine. You don’t have to feel bad about leaving me here; I’ve lived alone longer than you think. And it’s not like we’re going to cut ties forever, right? We’ll still meet up; and I’m sure you know that I’ll be dragging you to hell and back during missions. If you still want to, that is… if not, then we… we can still be friends, right? Like how we are right now?” This was turning disgustingly sweet and sad.

Nevertheless, something washed over Alfred’s face. Once again his demeanor changed entirely. His blue eyes widened for a fraction of a second, and they turned glassy, a clear sheen covering those crystal blues. Alfred’s nose turned a little red, and before Arthur could even ask what was wrong, Alfred’s phone started ringing.

The United State’s national anthem started playing behind them, indicating a call was coming from the American’s phone. Alfred turned away from Arthur, picking his phone before answering. “Alfred F. Jones, how may I help you?”  
  
Whilst Alfred talked on the phone, most likely someone from work judging by how formal Alfred spoke, Arthur continued to ponder about Alfred’s expression a few minutes ago. As the seconds passed by, no explanation came out from Arthur’s mind. Situations like these, when it came to feelings, Arthur was at a loss. He couldn’t figure out why Alfred made such a face, and even if the man could be easily read like an open book, Arthur was unable to infer an answer.

“Alright, I’ll head out as soon as possible. See you in a few minutes,” Alfred ended his call. “I have to go. Something happened at HQ and they need my help,” he announced, gathering his belongings quickly. “I’ll be gone for the whole day. I’ll probably be home by six. See ya.” Once he had his essentials, he left the room, muttering a short goodbye without looking at the Englishman.

When the door closed, something horrible bubbled in Arthur’s chest. He couldn’t understand what it was, but it made Alfred upset, which made Arthur guilty. Perhaps he has gone a little too far… but then he doesn’t know what he did that soured Alfred’s mood.

When night came, Arthur waited patiently, in fact, he waited all afternoon for Alfred. There was nothing he could do if his mind constantly jabbered at him to apologize to the American, but how can he apologize if he doesn’t know what he did? He recalled their conversation this morning, but every time he thought about it, he can never figure out the reason.

Arthur felt… lost. He was getting frustrated by the lack of result, and the fact that he was getting nowhere was giving him headaches. In addition, he worried about Alfred. They left at a bad position a while ago. And since Arthur couldn’t find an answer, his only option was to wait dreadfully for Alfred and confront him about his concerns. 

His phone jingled, indicating a text message. Arthur snatched his smartphone, turning it on to see a message from the devil himself.

_I might come back home later than expected. Sorry, something came up. Don’t wait up for me._

Arthur frowned. Why did he have a sneaking position that Alfred knew he was sitting in the living room, waiting for him to return? They have been flatmates for a while, a little over a year in fact. By now both of them knew of each other’s habits.   
  
Dismissing the thought, Arthur texted back, _Am I your mother? You don’t need to ask permission to stay past curfew._ Arthur sneered at his message, erasing it immediately. It sounded snarky, which all of his texts are now that he thought about it. He and Alfred were in cold waters right now, the former didn’t want to worsen the situation by being his usual, sarcastic self.

After what seemed like ten minutes, Arthur gave up. He eyed the McDonald bags on the coffee table - a peace offering for Alfred - and his insides prickled. _That’s fine. There’s some burgers from that horrid fast food restaurant that you like. I left them in the fridge if you’re still hungry._ And send.

Arthur laid his head on the back of the couch. He stared at the ceiling as something began to blossom in his mind, an idea that began to form.

_No… that’s a bad idea. Don’t even think about it._

* * *

Arthur went against his conscience.

He was sitting at a bar, heavily scented with bourbon and beer. It seemed to be a bar reserved for Americans, seeing how it was jam-packed with them, all ordering the same thing and making a ruckus in each corner. 

Bringing the small glass of rum to his lips, Arthur spied at the wheat-blonde American sitting by the bar. Of course this was the ideal bar for someone like Alfred. They’d gone together once before, the night of Alfred’s birthday, the night when he forced Arthur to drink a glass of bourbon that burned Arthur’s throat so much it made him wheeze. It was a great night regardless, both of them got drunk, went home drunk, slept on the floor drunk, and suffered the worst hangover together.

This time, he shared the night with someone else. Sitting at the darkest corner of the bar, Arthur glanced as another man appeared behind Alfred, greeting him before taking a seat on the stool beside the American. They knew each other from the looks of it, laughing together as the newcomer order his drink, and this only added to Arthur’s suspicions.

Blonde hair. A trait that Alfred’s supposed beau carried. There was a loud ruckus from the table next to Arthur, and it caused a majority of the customers to turn their heads and look. This gave Arthur the opportunity.

And bingo.

Green eyes.

A wave of completion washed over him, the feeling of ‘eureka!’, we found the culprit. It was supposed to make Arthur satisfied now that he discovered Alfred’s love interest, but something inside gnawed at him. However, he pushed that feeling aside, as he always does whenever he felt something foreign.

Instead, Arthur studied the other man attentively. Deduction reasoning was what drove Arthur’s brain, and it was the one ability that aided him during his investigations. Giving someone a cold reading was the quickest way to discover who that person was. This always scared other people because Arthur can disclose their entire past and background just from _staring_ at them.

Once Arthur got what he needed, he downed the last ounces of rum and exited the bar.

* * *

Arthur didn’t know if it was the cold air or the rum, but his thoughts were hazy and his chest was tight. He decided to walk back home, walking gave him the opportunity to contemplate harder to form better conjectures. As he reflected from the recent events, Arthur couldn’t help but notice the sharp stinging in his chest.

Only now did it dawn on him that Alfred will be leaving. Many blocks away, far, very far from Arthur. He did suggest that he and Alfred could still meet up, and that they can still partner up to solve mysteries and investigations together. However, this suggestion didn’t make Alfred happy. It only made him frown, downcast - and Arthur knew why now.

Alfred didn’t want to do anything with Arthur anymore.

And knowing how sweet and kind Alfred was, it was difficult for him to relay that fact to Arthur. How else can Alfred break the news to him? He felt bad about leaving Arthur, and surely the man didn’t know how he can amiably say that he was tired of him.

Who wouldn’t?

Arthur had the worst personality in the entire world, probably the universe if aliens existed. He was snarky, moody, a Grade A asshole - people always ran the other direction once they see the self-proclaimed ‘consulting detective’ marching their way. 

No wonder he had no friends. He couldn’t even call his siblings his friends.

Why did he think Alfred would ever stick around with him till the end? He recalled all of the unnecessary insults he threw at Alfred, and the many times he’d inconvenienced him from the past year. Of course Alfred would eventually tire of Arthur’s rude behavior. No matter how happy they may have been at some times, Alfred deserved better.

Arthur should have expected it. The American used to serve as a pilot in the Royal Air Force, but after his vision had worsened, he was forced to retire as a teacher offering lessons for incoming pilots. The pay wasn’t as high as the former, but it got him through. His demotion also released him from his residence at the base, forcing Alfred to look for a flat at a short’s notice. 

Matthew Williams, an old acquaintance, informed Alfred that Arthur was looking for someone that could help him ease the monthly rent by splitting it in half with a flatmate. And thus the unlikely pair were introduced to each other. 

At first everything was rocky, both of them trying to adapt to each other’s habits: Alfred with his inability to clean up after himself, his odd obsession with greasy burgers and fries, and then there was Arthur, with his weird habits of shooting bullets on a wall and playing Paganini’s Caprice 24 on repeat for a whole night, his hobby of hoarding things in his storage room (things that scared the shit out of Alfred); and he couldn’t leave out the fact that he and Alfred argued almost every day, at every hour.

They couldn’t stand each other. The only thing keeping them under the same roof was the rent.

However, everything changed when they had their first mission together. A murder case. Alfred wasn’t even supposed to be Arthur’s sidekick, but it somehow happened. A few seconds ago they were at each other’s throats, but now they needed each other for every crime scene. Arthur carried the brains, while Alfred had the brawn. Arthur had already lost count of how many times the yank saved his life: from a knife attack to almost falling off a building. 

Their first case almost costed them their lives, but after their first success, they laughed it off and came to a consensus. Somehow Alfred agreed to follow him during his investigations; something about ‘missing the thrill of the chase, the blood pumping in his veins’ - the highs he felt when he used to fly for the Royal Air Force. That desire was fulfilled once again the moment he agreed to be Arthur’s partner in crime.

And that was how their partnership was formed. They were an odd pair, with personalities repelling each other, but they clicked and that was how they cracked every mystery that England threw at them.

But that partnership would eventually end. And Arthur would work solo once again; after every case he’ll be coming home barely alive with bruises and broken limbs. But he lived for the chase, his hunger for mystery was what kept him alive.

Arthur told himself not to dwell on this topic too much. Yes, Alfred would be gone, wiped completely from Arthur’s life. It wasn’t smart to linger with… feelings and friendship. That was what his brothers always say. The first one to feel, is the first one to fall. 

He’s worked solo for years, it would be easy to revert back to his old life.

Yes, that would be more pleasant. No more American waking him up with awful singing, no more unhealthy, greasy eggs and bacon for breakfast, no more idiot trying to save him from possible death situations, and definitely no more of that stupid, sun-filled smile that… yes, it would be best for Alfred to move on, and for Arthur to move on.

The Englishman sniffed, blaming the godforsaken air as he trudged on the sidewalk, his eyes awfully hurting whilst his nose began to run. 

Strange.

* * *

“Feliks Łukasiewicz.”

Arthur slapped a folder filled with documents on the table beside Alfred’s microwaved burgers. The latter eyed him, blue eyes sleepy and hungover. He chanced a glance at the folder before turning back to Arthur.

“No, stop, whatever this is, can it wait? Forgot to tell you that I have a splitting headache right now.”

“Yes, that’s what you get for drinking so much last night.” Arthur opened the folder, a proud smirk placed on his lips. The first file had a two-by-two picture of Feliks, along with his information on the bottom. “Feliks Łukasiewicz, Polish, and currently a Flying Officer in the Royal Air Force. I’d talk more about him but I’m assuming you already know.”

Alfred’s brows furrowed as he scanned the documents. “What about Feliks?”

Arthur clicked his tongue. “By now you should be congratulating me. I’ve solved your case.”  
  
“Solved my what?”

“Your love interest, you git!” Arthur exclaimed, sighing heavily. “I finally found out who it was. That was a relief, thought I’d never solve it. Now, I’m not asking for any reward, you know me, I never accept compensation.”

Alfred never said anything. He looked at the file again, read it, and shook his head. “You’re wrong,” he simply said, pushing the folder towards Arthur before taking a bite from his burger. 

“What?” Arthur gasped, as if he was offended. “I-I’m never wrong! My conclusion all lead-”

“Face it, Einstein, you’re wrong. Kinda surprised, kinda not. But this is the first time your ‘deductions’ are wrong. But don’t worry, I won’t tell you brothers that you’ve made a small mistake.”  
  
Arthur blushed, embarrassed. “You lie! Stop messing with me. All the clues lead up to him! Blonde hair, green eyes, he’s a colleague of yours, a military man - you’re just jesting. You two were even drinking together!”

“How did you know I met up with him last night?” Alfred asked, suspicious. He put his burger away, hungover forgotten; he was interested in this now. 

“I did a little snooping, as what every case needed. I wasn’t stalking if that’s what your wondering.”

Alfred remained wary. “Uh-huh. And if you stayed longer you would have seen the rest of the men from my regiment come in for our reunion.”

Arthur blinked.

Reunion?

“Feliks is an old friend of mine. Yes, we are close, but that’s because we were assigned in the same squad when I was still a pilot. He knew Toris and his lodging business, and it was how I got a hold of him to ask a few inquiries about the apartment and rent. There’s nothing between Feliks and I, we are _far_ from that type of relationship. So no, he is not my love interest. Unfortunately, you didn’t solve my case. I hate to break it to ya, darlin’, you may be smart, but you can be very dumb sometimes. Especially with something as obvious as this. And that’s coming from me.”

Arthur was speechless. His pride told him to argue, but something pulled him back. What if Alfred was right? Arthur was a little hesitant about Feliks. After putting everything together, he felt as if he was missing something. A very important detail that would tie everything up and expose the secret beau. But how can he admit defeat? He must have been close, right? A little flaw in his calculations-

“Arthur,” Alfred’s voice pulled him out from a potential fight with his conscience. “I don’t think you’ll ever solve this case.”  
  
“What makes you say that?” Arthur retorted, a little irritated.

“You’ll never know who it is unless I tell it to you bluntly.”

“You’re underestimating me.”

“I’m not. I just think you’re really oblivious,” Alfred chuckled, staring at his clasped hands. “Arthur, do you really think the flowers were for someone else?”  
  
Arthur couldn’t decipher Alfred’s body language. “What do you mean someone else?”

“Did it ever occur to you that I intended to leave that bouquet here? For _you_ to see?”

Arthur remained silent.

Alfred bit his lip. “Who else, Arthur, do you think I spend most of my time with? Who else do you think has green eyes and blonde hair, and has been with me for a while for me to arouse these feelings?”  
  
“Now…” Arthur swallowed. Why was he nervous? Why was his heart beating so hard? “You’re not being fair.”

“I’m giving you clues, to which I think should help you realize that the man standing before me, is the man who unintentionally stole my heart.”

Arthur released a breath, a breath he’s been holding on to for so long. He blinked, furiously, and he never strayed away from Alfred's eyes. 

“I…” Arthur started, unsure what to say as he stumbled back, his hips colliding with the counter behind him. He felt so dizzy all of a sudden. It was that feeling again, that foreign feeling that he kept denying. “Alfred-”

“You can detect a spy from a mile away, discover a clue from something as trivial as spotting a suspicious stain on a shirt; yet you can't figure out if someone has feelings for you? Even if it was as obvious as the color of one’s eye?” 

Alfred stood up, and that action caused Arthur’s heart to race even faster. With every step he took, he lessened the space between them. In a second he was in front of Arthur, a fist away from him, but the man was so close, dangerously close. It was driving Arthur crazy.

“Your… muse is me?” Was all Arthur replied.

“Bingo. We got a winner.”

And then Alfred smiled, like a child receiving the best gift in the entire world. That sunny smile that was so bright and alluring. It was a sight to see, so warm and lovely…

Arthur didn’t deserve that.

“Alfred, I have been working by myself for years. Ever since I was a child I preferred isolation. It’s been something that was both a convenience and a curse to me. Alfred, I… I’m devoid of feelings.” Arthur looked down as a reflex, but his chin was quickly stolen and he was forced to look up, surprised at the blue eyes staring at him with warmth and passion-

It was too much.

“You say that… but do you really?” Alfred’s voice was low, but it came out smooth and sweet. Like honey. “I want you to look me in the eye and tell me,” he started, his other hand grasping Arthur forearm. “Tell me you don’t feel anything for me, and we can forget all about this.”

Blue eyes bore into him, desperately trying to look for an unspoken answer. Meanwhile, Arthur thought about his words, his request. Does he truly harbor no feelings for Alfred? He thought about his dreadful thoughts, about how his life would be so barren once Alfred leaves. Was that the feeling Alfred was referring to?

His silence brought a wider smile on Alfred’s face, and he laughed. He looked happy, jubilant, and overjoyed. Arthur remained silent, knowing that was the answer that Alfred wanted. It was the answer he himself wanted as well.

Alfred cupped his cheek and he brought their foreheads together. The taller man laughed again, teasing Arthur about his speedy pulse. “You do have something for me, don’t you? You don’t understand it, none of it all, but you can feel it, don’t you?” 

“I do,” Arthur replied without any hesitation. His voice was so low and fragile, it even scared him.

God, what was this man doing to him?

“How?” Arthur suddenly says, pulling away to look at Alfred. “How do you know about how I feel if _I_ don’t even know?”

Alfred’s smile never faltered. “Elementary, my dear Arthur.”

A part of him wanted to laugh, another part of him wanted to kick Alfred’s chin for stealing his punchline, but Arthur wanted to know something.

With a shaky voice, Arthur asks, “But why? Why me? How can you love me?”

“I just do.”

“But… how can you love someone like me? I’ve been told I’m not the nicest person-”

“That I surely know. But that doesn’t change anything.”

“You’ve said so yourself. I’m crazy, a complete lunatic.”

“You’re a high-functioning sociopath.”

“I’m not that good looking.”

“You;re gorgeous.”

“I can never make you happy.”

“But you already do.”

“You lie,” Arthur accused with glassy eyes. Was he… was he crying? “Aren’t you done with me? I’m always dragging you into crazy missions, endangering your life… I’ve said many hurtful things, I…”

Alfred’s thumb was quick to wipe away the tears that began rolling from his eyelids. “Do you ever wonder why I tolerate it? Anyone would have just up and left. Why do you think I still decide to stay?”

And then the tears turned to a river. Arthur couldn’t believe he was crying. And Alfred was stupidly smiling.

“Who else would be by your side to make sure you live to see another case? Don’t you know? If you’re gone, England will fall. It’s my job to protect you.”

“But…” So many things ballooned in Arthur’s head. Some of them unintelligible, making his head all hazy and corrupted. It’s as if it stopped working completely. “But Alfred, I-”

“My god, Arthur, for once in your life _shut up_.”

And with that, a strong arm wrapped around Arthur’s waist before pulling his whole body close to strong chest. In just a second, Alfred’s lips crashed onto Arthur’s, causing the latter in a state of shock.

It was then when something erupted inside of him, the feeling he’s been suppressing now escaping its chains. Warmth blossomed inside of his chest as Alfred kissed him deeper, sending jolts of shock and pleasure all throughout his body. It made his knees feel like jelly, and he would’ve collapsed if it weren’t for the strong arm that was holding him.

When Alfred pulled away, his lips ghosted behind Arthur’s ear. 

“I love you.”

It made Arthur gasp. He knew he had to reply to that, but he wasn’t ready. He knew of his impending feelings that began to blossom, and he was sure he wanted it.

“I… I care about you, Alfred.”

The American laughed and pulled away. He kissed Arthur’s nose.

“I’ll take it.”

* * *

Turns out, Alfred had been planning on surprising Arthur about moving together to Baker Street. It was supposed to be a surprise, but then Alfred realized he could never keep a secret from Arthur. It did make Alfred a little upset about it not being a surprise anymore, but he was more overjoyed about the fact that he and Arthur changed.

Or rather, they were still the same actually. Insulting each other for being so idiotic and weird, arguing about the rent, Alfred was still a terrible singer, and Arthur was still blasting bullets in their walls - but what was different was that after each argument didn’t result in silent treatment, but an apology and a kiss. Hugs were more intimate, and they shared one bed now. Arthur’s studies were always disturbed by a demanding boyfriend, and Alfred looked at him in a lovesick manner whenever he played the violin for him.

It was still the same, but there were a few tweaks added.

Two months later, they’ve finally moved to a new place. 221B Baker Street. Arthur didn’t know why but moving to a new area made him feel motivated, determined. And as he and Alfred entered their new home, Arthur realized how good it felt to be in here. Almost as if this place has been calling for them, and they’ve finally found the voice. 

“That’s the last of them,” Alfred huffed, placing the last stack of boxes in the dining area. “We’ve got a lot of unpacking to do. But I’m loving the place. Both of us can have our own office, there’s an actual dining room, the bedroom’s bigger. I think we landed on a good spot, darlin’. Darlin’?”

Alfred turns around to find Arthur lingering inside the living room. The Englishman was circling around the spacious area, a wide smile on his face. Seeing him happy made Alfred giddy inside. 

Meanwhile, Arthur’s intelligent eyes inspected every inch of the living room. He already sketched out a layout for a sitting room for his clients. There was a fireplace and a mantelpiece where he could put his Persian slipper and skull. A couch here, a desk there, a bookshelf on that corner-

“Making yourself at home?” Strong, tanned arms circled around his waist. He was greeted with a kiss on the cheek. 

“Maybe,” Arthur chuckled as he looked around more like an excited puppy. He walked around, dragging Alfred who was still wrapped around him.

“Is it to your liking?”

“It’s almost perfect but… it’s missing something.” Arthur reached for his back pocket.

Alfred was about to ask until he saw the object in Arthur’s hand. He paled.

“Arthur, Arthur, babe, no-!”

_BANG!_

“Ah,” Arthur sighed, staring at the fresh bullet hole on their new living room wall. He tucked the pistol back to his back pocket. “Much better.”

There was a scream downstairs, followed by an angry bellow.

Great, they just moved in and the landlord hates them already.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been ACHING to write a Sherlock Holmes AU. I finished the first movie and the TV series last summer, and only now did I finish the second movie. I’m actually really happy with how this turned out. I hope you guys enjoyed it! Comments are appreciated :3 Thank you so much!


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